


From Here to Mars

by firstdegreefangirl



Series: Chenford Week 2020 [1]
Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Chenford Week, Cute, F/M, Falling In Love, Fireworks, First Dates, Flashbacks, Fluff, Introspection, Kojo the dog, Lazy Mornings, Memories, Morning Cuddles, Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: 5 minutes left before daylight4 million reasons not to say goodnight3 words that don't even describethe 2 of usare 1 of a kind
Relationships: Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Series: Chenford Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827838
Comments: 23
Kudos: 81
Collections: Chenford Week 2020





	From Here to Mars

**Author's Note:**

> Lucy-centric! Inspired by my favorite We The Kings song as we kick things off for the week.

Lucy opens her eyes slowly, reluctant to wake up. It's dark in Tim’s room, the furniture making vague shapes slightly darker than the empty space around it. The earliest, smallest edges of the sunrise are just starting to bleed in through the crack between the curtain panels. Still, it’s dark enough that Lucy doesn’t need to look at a clock to know that it’s too early to be awake. 

She’s willing to make her peace with it, though, because it means that she’s awake to know that Tim is holding her. Not just an-arm-draped-across-her-while-he-sleeps, but holding her close, tucked tightly against his chest. If she wanted to, she could pull away, but she doesn’t want to. 

Instead, she reaches down to where Tim’s hand rests against her hip and interlaces their fingers, closing her eyes and smiling to herself. 

There’s maybe five minutes left until daylight really starts to break, and Lucy is perfectly content to spend them lying in Tim’s arms and ruminating about the moments leading up to now, to the future she never would have even imagined in her wildest fantasies. 

* * *

Their first date. It hadn’t even been a date, really. Or at least, they hadn’t known it was at the time, even if it’s obvious as they look back. 

She spent all day looking forward to it, after Tim had cornered her after roll call, in line at the armory. 

“You have any plans after shift?” He’d stared straight ahead, asking the question the same way he might ask to borrow a pen or offer to pour a second cup of coffee when the carafe was already in his hand. 

“Nope,” Lucy had met his casual tone, even though all she’d wanted to do was tease him with their regular banter, say something like _I don’t know, do I?_ But it was clear that Tim wasn’t looking for teasing, that he was asking an honest question, and she’d known that he deserved an honest answer. 

“Now you do,” Tim had replied, looking at her out the corner of his eye, every non-verbal signal giving her an out if she wanted it, silently asking if it was OK. When she nodded, he’d continued. “Nevin’s has some new flavors. Let me buy you a maple bacon. Real syrup drizzle and everything.” 

Her shift had passed by quickly, a busy enough day that the hours didn’t drag on, but mercifully without any calls stopping her from getting off work on time. It’s maybe the fastest she’s ever changed out of her uniform, and even Harper had noticed her rush. 

“Everything OK, Chen?” 

“Hmm?” She’d looked up from furiously re-lacing her favorite knee-high boots. Nervous energy had made her fingers uncooperative, laces sliding from her grasp again. “Yeah, fine. Just … ready to head out.” 

“Big plans?” 

“I don’t know yet. But, uh, plans, yeah.” 

“Well, be careful, alright? I’m not helping with your second manhunt.” She’d smiled though, and when she stood up to leave, Nyla stopped in front of Lucy. “Hang on, look up.” 

Lucy obeyed, even through her confusion. With a mother’s gentle touch, she’d swept a finger carefully under Lucy’s eye, then held it out for her to see. 

“Here, make a wish.” When Lucy had looked down, Nyla was balancing an eyelash on the tip of her finger. 

Lucy giggled, then closed her eyes and blew gently, silently wishing for a good night with Tim. 

Nyla’s fingers had grazed the side of her face, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. 

“Perfect. You look great. Whoever all this is for, knock him dead. Literally, if he tries to pull anything funny.” 

_He won’t,_ she’d wanted to say, _he’d_ _never_ _._

But that kind of confidence would have begged more questions than it answered, and she wasn’t even sure yet if there was anything to explain about her and Tim. So she’d nodded instead, thanked Nyla for the support and the wish, and met Tim outside at his truck. 

They’d ordered their donuts, a pair of maple bacon long johns, and woven their way back through the crowded dining room to sit on the tailgate of Tim’s truck and eat. 

(Lucy had been surprised to see a donut shop packed to the walls at 9 p.m., but she’d quickly learn that Nevin’s is always that busy, between the LAPD traffic Tim had stirred up and the rest of the community pouring in for fresh donuts at any time of day). 

She’d waited until her donut was gone to make any sort of move, scooting closer to Tim as she licked the last of the sticky topping from her fingers. 

“Perfect night for this,” she’d whispered as their arms touched. “Look at all the stars.” Lucy leaned her head on Tim’s shoulder, admiring the specks of light over their heads. 

“Planes, probably. And some light pollution.” She hadn’t been able to see him roll his eyes, but just based on his tone, she knew he’d done it. 

“Whatever.” She’d stuck her tongue out and chuckled, sitting up to face him. “It’s pretty.” 

“Yeah, it is,” he’d whispered back. She hadn’t noticed until later, but Tim wasn’t looking at the sky when he’d replied. 

He was looking at her. 

* * *

Their real first date wasn’t for another week and a half. They finally had a matching night off, and Tim had booked a table for them at one of the new upscale places downtown. 

Lucy had spent two hours getting ready, but it was worth every minute to see the look on Tim’s face when she opened the door. 

Her dark green dress is a few inches shorter than she’d normally have worn on a date, but it had been hanging in the back of her closet for a few months already, waiting for just the right occasion. 

Still, she hadn’t been expecting the way Tim’s gaze slid across her body as he looked her up and down. It should have made her uncomfortable, from anyone else it might have, but something in his expression made her feel … powerful. Sexy. _Captivating._

“You know, if you stare all night, we’re going to miss dinner.” She’d smirked at him, fully aware that she was ogling Tim in much the same way. But how was she supposed to help herself, when he was standing on her front porch looking like _that?_

He’d worn a light grey suit, perfectly tailored to his body, pulled snug across his shoulders. His black dress shoes were shined to an almost mirrored finish, surely the result of his military training. 

But what had really drawn Lucy in, what had made her mouth go a little dry and her stomach flip-flop its way to her chest, was his button-down shirt. It was plain white, unremarkable, tucked neatly into his slacks. At the collar, though, he’d left an extra button undone. It loosened the whole suit up just enough that he didn’t look stuck-up. The extra triangle of exposed skin, the edges of his collarbones jutting out? 

Lucy would have had to be blind not to notice. 

In fact, she’d noticed Tim so much that they’d made it all the way to their table before Lucy registered anything else. And even then, it was still Tim that she’d stared at, nibbling idly at her roll and sipping her wine. 

He was telling her a story about his military days, but she has to admit now that she was listening to the timbre of his voice more than the words he was saying. Then he’d started laughing, and she was a lost cause. 

His eyes crinkled, shining bright even in the dim restaurant lighting, and Lucy felt herself falling even harder at the joy on his face. 

_Happiness is a good look on him._

But the next thing she’d known, he was reaching across the table to prod at her wrist. 

“Lucy? Waiting on you, Boot.” 

“Hmm? Uh, Highland and Sunset. What?” He’d laughed again, glancing at the street sign outside the restaurant, and Lucy found herself wanting to put that same look on his face every minute of the day. 

“Not important,” he’d waved her off. “Something’s on your mind. Where’d you go just now?” 

She’d considered a handful of half-truths, telling him that she was thinking about the whipped honey butter for the rolls or some call she and Jackson had worked the day before. But she’d rather be honest, let Tim know exactly where she was at with everything they were doing. 

“You’ve got _amazing_ eyes.” 

“They’re grey.” He shifts in his seat, blushes a little bit, like he’s not sure how to react to her compliment. 

“Sure, if you want to pick just one color. But the light, and you’re actually _expressing emotions,_ and it’s just … nice.” She’d run out of steam by the end, but smiled and reached across the table for one of Tim’s hands. “Really nice.” 

She’d looked out the window, the golden sunset streaming in just enough to cast a warm glow across the table, and their hands resting on top of it. 

His face had lit up again, the expression rivalling the way he’d looked at her earlier. 

“Almost as nice as you look tonight, huh?” His eyes were shining again, but this time with something other than wonder. “Which, I should add, is a total understatement in that dress.” 

* * *

That first summer, Tim had driven her close to an hour across the city on a hot July night (it had only been about 20 miles, but LA traffic, as usual, made the drive almost unbearably slow). He’d refused to tell her where they were going, only to dress for the weather and bring a water bottle. 

They’d parked in the grass and Tim had led her by the hand into the county’s biggest Fourth of July celebration. The fireworks wouldn’t start for a couple of hours, but they spent the time walking through the festival, admiring artisanal booths and sharing sips of the freshly squeezed lemonade Tim had bought. 

For dinner, they’d eaten hot dogs and cotton candy, the kind of mystery-meat food that Lucy only indulged in on rare occasions. 

Every day with Tim felt like a special occasion, but that night especially so, as they’d found a spot to spread out the blanket Tim had pulled from the back of his truck. 

Just as the first explosions had lit up the sky, Lucy had settled herself between Tim’s legs, leaned back against his chest. He had supported her weight with ease, held both of them up with one hand stretched out behind him. His other arm had wrapped around her abdomen, holding her close while his chin rested on her shoulder. 

Together, they’d watched the colorful bursts, whispering and laughing in the quiet space between them. The lemonade cup had long run empty, and even as the sun set, the temperature was still pushing 100 degrees with humidity turning the park into a sauna. 

Still, the contact hadn’t been too warm, and Lucy had found herself curling closer to Tim as the night grew later and the sky darker. 

A sudden ‘pop’ had caught Lucy off guard, and she’d jumped in Tim’s embrace. He’d tightened his hold on her, just enough to be comforting and kissed her cheek gently. 

“Right here. I’ve got you.” 

He hadn’t laughed, just waited for the tension to drain from her shoulders and traced his fingers in delicate lines up and down her side. 

The touch had made her shiver and sigh, settling back further against Tim and tucking one of her legs over his. He’d craned his neck around, waited for her to get the hint and turn to meet him for a kiss. 

Not long after, the fireworks had tapered to a stop, and the people around them had started packing up their areas. Lucy started to stand up, but Tim hadn’t let go, instead drew her impossibly closer to him. 

“What’d you think?” 

“Spectacular,” She’d smiled over her shoulder. “I love fireworks. Did you see that green and blue one? Incredible.” 

“Yeah, it was. But you know what? There was nothing in that sky more radiant than you are tonight.” 

Lucy had rolled her eyes, but she hadn’t been able to keep the grin off of her face as Tim stood up and helped her to her feet. He’d walked her backwards off the blanket, kissing her softly before folding it up and taking her hand. 

They’d walked back to the truck like that, driven back to Tim’s house hand-in-hand too, curled around each other again in his bed. 

The night had ended quietly, but Lucy wouldn’t have had it any other way, a taste of the future they’d come to share. 

* * *

Lucy had worn a similar dress to the one from that first dinner date when Angela and Wesley got married, just a little bit longer and with a sparkly pashmina to cut the slight autumn chill that nipped into the air as the night went on. By then, she and Tim knew where they stood with each other, but hadn’t yet started telling their friends. They’d wanted to work things out for themselves, make sure they knew where things were _going,_ not just where they _were,_ before getting anyone else’s opinion involved. 

It was a plan Lucy had been completely on board with until she realized that it meant she couldn’t dance with Tim at the wedding. 

Sure, they’d managed once dance, holding each other’s hands and waists, careful to leave enough distance between themselves not to raise any eyebrows. But any more than that, any closer than they’d gotten, and people would have asked questions. Then they’d have had to answer those questions and everyone would know and … 

And really, it was for the best. There’d be other weddings, other occasions for them to get dressed up and dance together. Lucy had tried to make her peace with it, almost convinced herself to be OK with spending a couple hours in her own hotel room before sneaking up a floor to Tim’s, waking up early enough to get back downstairs before brunch. 

But she couldn’t hide her small frown on the shuttle ride back to the hotel. Not from Tim, anyway, who’d furrowed his brow looking at her, but refrained from any other reaction. Still, she’d known he’d picked up on her mood when they stepped into the parking lot and he’d lingered in the corner of the lobby, staring at the ATM without reaching for his wallet. 

Lucy had wandered over to the lobby shop, pretending to care what kinds of cookies they had for sale. Once the rest of the wedding group had filtered out, they’d looked at each other and Tim had nodded his head down a hallway. She’d given him a head start, but caught up almost as soon as they were out of sight of the lobby. 

“The elevators are the other way,” Lucy had slid her arm around his, falling into step. 

“I know. Just think it’s a shame that my girlfriend got all dressed up, looks this stunning and I only got one dance out of it.” He pushed open a door, revealed the courtyard at the center of the building. 

Tim had wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her gently into his side. With his other hand, he’d held his phone just high enough that she couldn’t see what was happening on the screen until soft music started playing from the speaker. The volume had been just loud enough for the two of them to hear it after Tim slipped the phone into his pocket. 

She’d expected him to pull her closer, but instead he’d reached for her hand and raised it above her head, twirled her around and grinned as she’d giggled. Before she could get too dizzy, he’d wrapped both arms around her waist and tugged her toward him until their bodies were pressed together. 

They’d swayed gently, to music no one else could hear, whispering to each other between the songs. With every step she and Tim took, Lucy felt the tinges of sadness fading away. Who needed wedding receptions when they could dance just like this? 

The long night had finally caught up to Lucy, and she’d yawned, leaning her head against Tim’s chest. He’d pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, and she’d been able to hear the steady pounding of his heart beat. 

She’d felt her own heart start beating in sync, and known in that moment that she’d given it to Tim without either of them realizing. 

And when they’d finally broken apart, after Tim had whispered an invitation to his hotel room in her ear, she’d reached for his hand and he’d twirled her again. As she came to a stop, Lucy had glanced up and noticed a woman in a white dress standing on the sixth floor balcony. 

_Angela_. She’d put her phone away and waved, then held one finger to her lips and turned away. 

Before Lucy could say anything, Tim was tipping her chin up and kissing her softly. 

And when she’d gotten a text from Angela later that night, a handful of picture and a show video of her and Tim dancing in the courtyard? Lucy had known that even when she and Tim did start telling people about their relationship, she didn’t have anything to worry about. 

* * *

Lucy smiles, shifting just a little bit closer to the warmth of Tim’s body against hers. There’s still nothing to worry about, not when she’s lying in his bed, sleepy and protected and in love. 

She hasn’t said it yet, that she loves him. Not out loud, for anyone to hear, even herself. But she knows it, in the deepest, most true parts of herself, and she knows he knows it too. She’s no good at hiding her feelings, never has been. 

Not that she’s really trying to hide how much she loves Tim. She just hasn’t had the right moment for the words yet, the perfect opportunity to say them for the first time. 

Especially because “I love you,” doesn’t feel like a complete summation of her feelings for Tim. 

She does love him, more than maybe anyone else in her life, but that’s not even the half of it. 

Lucy trusts him. She trusts him with her life, knows he’ll always have her back at work, always be there when something goes wrong. And she trusts him with her heart too. 

That’s much harder for her, letting someone else in far enough to completely steal away with the innermost workings of her body, the one thing she really, truly couldn’t live without. She gives her love freely, throws it around like confetti. But her heart? It’s more guarded; it has to be, after everything she’s been through. 

She’s been bitten before, by a handful of previous relationships that just didn’t work out, but most recently by Caleb. She knows better now, knows she has to be more careful about who she lets into her life, and how they get to be there. 

But Tim has been around far longer than those walls have been up, was tearing them down almost as fast as Lucy had built them. She knows he won’t hurt her, not if there’s anything he can do about it. Beyond that, when the world rears its ugly head, she knows she can trust Tim to be there for her, to listen to whatever’s on her mind, help her in whatever ways he can. 

He cares about her, wants to know the smallest details of her day. Sometimes Lucy will stop telling a story halfway through, decide it’s not as funny as she’d thought, not important enough to get to the end. But Tim will look at her, smile and ask what happened next, hang on whatever she’s telling him like it’s the most riveting thing he’s heard all day. He’ll mock her sometimes, too, in the easy way he always has, but he seems to have this innate ability to tell when Lucy needs more heartfelt support. 

She can only hope that Tim knows she cares about him just as much. 

Every single moment of her day is better if he’s there, even when they’re not doing anything special. They’re not codependent, not attached at the hip like other couples she’s known, but if she has to choose between having Tim’s company or sitting on her own, the answer is the same every time. Even if they’re just sitting on his couch, TV news playing quietly while they read to themselves, or lying in bed while Tim sleeps pressed up against her. 

They take each other, just as they are, without trying to make any changes. Sometimes Lucy has nightmares, the kind that leave her awake for the rest of the night, breathing hard and choking on her own tears. But Tim has never let her feel weak in those moments; he’ll stay up with her, answer the phone when she calls, drive across town and hold her in her own bed, stroking her hair and murmuring quiet affections in her ear. He’ll tell her how strong she is, remind her that she’s survived everything she’s ever been up against. 

And when Tim tries to push her away, afraid that he’s going to hurt her, that she’s more than he deserves? Lucy is always right there, pushing a cup of coffee into his hands and settling in next to him. She waits with him, patiently, until the storm breaks and he’s ready to accept her reassurances. She’ll squeeze his knee gently, start listing off the reasons she _w_ _ants_ to be there, with him, more than she wants to be anywhere else in the entire world. It’s a long list, one they’ll never reach the end of, because Lucy finds something new to add every single day, every single moment they're together. 

* * *

Lucy shifts again in Tim’s arms, tries to roll some of the pressure off of her hip before her leg gets pins and needles. As she wiggles her toes, sliding them out from underneath the edge of the blanket, she’s drawn back to one of the first times she came “home to Tim’s.” 

She hadn’t moved in yet, even unofficially like she lives now, but Tim had texted her early in the afternoon, asked if she was coming home with him after work. She’d replied ‘yes’ without even thinking about what his question meant, but when the meaning of it hit her, she’d gasped so loudly that Jackson had started to swerve their shop, afraid she’d seen something in the road. 

“Tim wants me to come home with him,” she’d said, when Jackson asked her what the hell she was carrying on about. 

“Luce, he’s your boyfriend. Of course he wants to take you home.” 

“No, he asked if I was ‘coming home with him,’ Jackson. ‘Coming _home,’_ not ‘coming over.’” 

“And?” Jackson’s brow had knit together. 

“And I told him I would. Like as soon as he texted me. _I think of him as home now.”_

At that, understanding had washed over Jackson’s face. 

“So? When’s the wedding? Clearly you guys are _in love_.” 

“I don’t know? We haven’t … I don’t even live with him yet!” 

“Yeah, but you want to. And he wants you to. I’m calling it, Lucy. You two are meant to be.” 

Jackson’s words had weighed heavy on her mind all afternoon as she tried to figure out if Tim had meant for his text to hit her as hard as it did. But she’d realized as she slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder, ready to walk out of the locker room and go home - to Tim’s - that she already thought of his house as her home. He invited her over every night, but it was starting to feel more and more like she was welcome even without his express permission. 

Tim had gotten there just a couple minutes before her, but left the door unlocked so she’d been able to walk right into the living room. He was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of chili. The scent spiced the air, making the house feel even more comfortable than it already did. 

She’d leaned against the counter, reached out to brush her fingers up the length of his arm. 

“Honey, I’m home.” They’d both laughed and he’d leaned over to kiss her gently. “Smells good.” 

“It’s been simmering all day.” He’d stepped past her and rolled up to his tiptoes to reach over her for the cabinet with the bowls. She’d ducked, and he’d carefully reached up with his free hand to cradle the back of her head. 

The protective move had made her smile to herself as Tim filled the bowls. 

When they’d settled on the couch, she’d folded herself into the far corner, stretched one leg out to poke against Tim’s thigh. They’d eaten quietly, stomachs too empty and mouths too full for much conversation. 

After the bowls were empty, and Tim had loaded them into the dishwasher, they’d picked a nature documentary from Tim’s DVR and started watching. Lucy had noticed a few minutes in that Tim seemed to be ignoring the baby tigers on the screen, choosing instead to stare at her. 

She’d let it go on for a few minutes, but the intensity of his stare made her uneasy. Lucy had only just started feeling at home in Tim’s space, and she remembers worrying that she was somehow overstaying her welcome, even after only a couple of hours. 

“What?” She’d said, turning her head to look back at him and letting her own worries tinge her voice with frustration. 

“You’re way over there.” Tim hadn’t fed on her irritation, had laid his reply out like he was telling her that his couch was grey, that they’d eaten chili for dinner. 

“What?” His mater-of-factness had turned her concern to confusion, and he’d smiled when she cocked her head. 

“Come get a little closer.” He had stretched his arm across the back of the sofa, created an opening against his side. Tentatively, she’d slid over to lean her head against his shoulder, still leaving space between their bodies. 

That had lasted all of two minutes before Tim was reaching down and drawing her more snugly against his side. When their bodies were flush, one of her legs resting atop his, he’d ran his fingers back up to her shoulder and gently kneaded some of the tension out of the muscles. 

“Close enough?” Lucy had giggled, still occasionally surprised at this more playful side of Tim. 

“Never.” His reply had been light, almost silly, but laced with earnest honesty. She’d rolled her head to the side, forehead pushing against the curve of his neck, giving him better access to massage. 

It had been a quiet moment, simple in its intimacy, but she knew that the way it hardly seemed to mean anything, meant _everything._ Lucy had fallen asleep that night, relaxed under his ministrations, curled up beside and halfway on top of Tim. 

Much the way she’s laying now, if she’s honest with herself, having wound up with one leg slung across Tim’s calves and the comforter wadded up at the foot of the bed. She sighs, and the rush of her breath across Tim’s sternum makes him stir. There’s just enough light coming through the window now that she knows he’ll be waking up soon, won’t roll over and go back to sleep. 

She’s hoping that she’ll be able to convince him to lay in bed with her for a while, indulge in a lazy, quiet morning. 

But all of a sudden, there’s something wet and cold pressing against her leg. She’d distantly heard Kojo come into the room, but wasn’t expecting the sensation. It makes her squeal and squirm away from where his nose is touching her leg, and the movement is enough to wake Tim up the rest of the way. 

He adjusts his hold on Lucy, wrapping both arms around her, and rolls, pulling her across his body to lay on his other side. From this angle, they’re facing each other, lying on their sides, and laughing together. 

So much for quiet and lazy, but maybe they can still stay here for a little bit longer. 

“Morning, beautiful.” Tim pushes a strand of hair out of Lucy’s face and kisses her forehead, and she’s stricken again at the tenderness. She knows he’s a good man, the sort of man any woman would be lucky to spend her days with. But every so often, he does something to remind her how _sensitive_ he can be, that there’s more to him than the funny, protective, hardass training officer she’d first fallen for. 

“Morning.” She smiles and runs a hand across the light stubble on his chin. 

“If I go take _your dog,”_ he emphasizes with a smile and a sarcastic eye roll, “outside, will you still be here when I get back?” 

Lucy cranes her neck forward to kiss him. 

“Will you have coffee when you come back?” 

“I … think that can be arranged.” This time, Tim leans in to kiss her, and when he lets go and rolls out of bed, she flops onto her back and flings her arms to the side. 

“Then I’ll be right here.” 

Tim smiles at her as he sticks his feet into his lace-up high tops. 

“Good. Kojo, hey buddy, you need to pee? Ready to go out?” He leaves his sweatpants on, and Lucy can hear him talking to Kojo as they walk toward the front door. “I know, Mom’s still all comfy, but we’ll go have some guy time, then come back and see her after you do your thing.” 

The front door opens and closes, and the noises disappear. Tim had left the light on, and she knows she has a few minutes before he comes back. So she rolls over, burying her face in the pillow in an attempt to shut out some of the brightness. The pillowcase is still warm where he’d been laying against it, the sheets smell like Tim. She’s surrounded by the heady blend of his shower gel, his shampoo and the not-quite-sweat scent she’s come to recognize as being uniquely Tim. 

It's comforting, familiar in the best way, just enough for Lucy to feel sleep pulling her back under while she waits for Tim and Kojo to return. 

She wants to wake up like this every morning, for the rest of her life. If it were anyone other than Tim, that feeling would scare her to death, but she knows they’ve been spinning toward these feelings for a long time now. Just like she knows, even as she fades out of awareness again, that no matter how many of these mornings she gets, each and every one of them will feel unique and special, its own moment in time. 

Because Lucy and Tim? They’ll always be one of a kind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Off to a roaring start, and I've got some big plans for the next six days. Let me know what you think!


End file.
